Information::Gynecological Programs

Isolation

By Tracey Conway

Isolation, also meaning remoteness or aloneness. That was pretty much how I felt all my life. Growing up I never really felt connected to anything or as if I belonged. So that I wouldn't have to face rejection from others I usually did things to push people away first or developed very unhealthy relationships. My sense of not belonging was greatly intensified when I was diagnosed with HIV. I felt that I truly was unworthy and that I had to keep it a secret, I was so scared someone would find out and say I knew you were no good, or think that I deserved it because of all the bad things I had done in my life.

I was also geographically remote and had a tendency to isolate myself from others when things got rough or I was feeling down. I could have been in a city of millions and still had that sense of being alone.

I was diagnosed later on in my illness. At that time I had a very low CD4 count and my viral load was through the roof. I had no choice but to go on medications, which in itself was a nightmare. I had terrible dreams and had difficulty distinguishing what was real from what was a dream. However I was very fortunate to have a very supportive family and health care professionals who held my hand and let me know things would be okay.

At the time of diagnosis I was living in a very unhealthy place with an alcoholic, and as I was trying to stay clean and sober. I chose to go and stay with my mother in Elliot Lake, a community of about 10000. Although our relationship had been strained for years, for the first time in my life we really talked to each other and are now very close. She did all the mom things and it sometimes drove me crazy but it was great to know someone cared. I also had access to a Counsellor, who although not an HIV Counsellor helped me deal with my feelings of anger and loss and helped me through the grieving process for the life I thought I would no longer have like a loving relationship and children I have since learned that such things are possible.

One of the biggest things that helped me through this time was my puppy dog, Ty. He used to lie on the coach with me, licked away my tears and never failed to put a smile on my face. We must have walked a million miles that first summer and just enjoyed each other's company. Talk about unconditional love. I also spent a lot of time planting the garden, knitting and building end tables. I had something beautiful to show in the end. I wasn't constantly thinking about my illness and how it was destroying my body, but trying to do positive things to help me see that life wasn't so bad after all. I used to write things down that I was thankful for, sometimes it was just waking up to a sunny day, being able to go for a walk, even not throwing up my pills. As time went on I had more a more things to be grateful for. HIV has become only a small aspect of my life.

In September I moved back to Sault Ste Marie and got a place if my own, joined the YMCA, started taking aerobics and Martial Arts and just being around people. It was there that I met my best friend. I started doing normal things again and my illness stopped being the center of my thoughts. My counts were good and I was healthier than I had been in years.

I have told some people my status. They have all been accepting and love me anyway and are proud of my contributions. If someone wants to reject me because of my HIV then it probably isn't someone I want in my life anyway. I still feel alone and struggle sometimes. When things get difficult I tend to isolate myself. I also do other things that aren't so great like not eating or drinking too much, a really bad habit of mine. I could be among millions and still feel alone. It is at these times I need to make a special effort to connect with others and let my feelings out, and remember that I am not alone. The supports I have made since I was diagnosed, when used continue to help me grow and develop into a person I am proud to be.